


By Any Other Name

by AnyaVolkova



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Lesbian Character, Drama, F/F, Femslash, Flirting, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnyaVolkova/pseuds/AnyaVolkova
Summary: Lena Oxton is sunburnt, on the rebound, and right pissed. A night out at a pub in Monaco turns into a little something more. Oneshot (but no kills). Rated T for language.





	By Any Other Name

It wasn’t an unusual sight—two men looming over a pretty little thing on a bar stool, meaty fingers disregarding personal boundaries and drool threatening to foam out their mouths like rabid dogs.

Lena had chased enough of them off back home sober, but there was always a certain thrill to doing it after having one too many. She rose from her bench—real satin of course, this wasn’t fucking Hackney—and trudged over to the tossers.

“Hey arseholes,” she hoped the disgust in her tone was made things clear enough, in case the vulgarities got lost in translation, “fuck off, leave her alone.”

“Yeah, we’ll fuck off,” to Lena’s surprise, the lad looking like he just stepped off Daddy’s yacht spoke English, and had an accent closer to hers than anything else. The other genius joined in, a starched and popped collar looking like it was mere centimetres away from slitting his throat, “We’ll fuck off with her and take you too, slag.”

Lena was pleased she hadn’t worn any of her RAF gear to the pub tonight—she liked to surprise people.

In a flash, she threw a hook, knuckles crunching the cartilage of the first young man’s nose. She ducked her head instinctively to avoid the lunge for her his mate would inevitably try, and shot a knee up to hit him square in the groin.

The young man with the popped collar doubled over onto the floor, sucking in a shallow breath, trying to shout curses that came out more as a series of whimpers. His friend was left dumbfounded standing over him, hands locked over his nose as a current of bright red blood ran between his fingers.

Two rabid dogs drew in their tails.

“ _Aller dehors! Sors d'ici!_ ” The omnic bartender stepped in, shooing away the barfight, sending the two men outside and Lena along with them. “Out!”

And so, Lena found herself alone and wobbly-legged and hot _—sweltering_ from the humidity at the French Riviera’s coastline—on the pub’s veranda, hanging an elbow off its lattice half-fence.

She tugged on the collar of her white dress shirt, eyeing the blood splatter painted across her knuckles. This was going to feel terrible tomorrow.

Her vision was swimming. A distant boat seemed to come up off the water line, flying up into the air. It looked a second away from hitting a mountain ridge when she caught something in the corner of her eye.

A floating mug of beer appeared beside her. Then, blinking and studying it, Lena followed the mug to find a hand holding it, trailing up into a shapely arm…

“You saved lives tonight, you know,” came the voice of an angel.

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” a sloshed grin grew on Lena’s face, “I don’t figure those fuckers are anything but talk.”

Lena’s eyes trailed up, finally piecing together who was holding the beer, and a glass of wine in her other hand—the brunette who also happened to be the subject of the men’s pestering a few minutes before.

“Not mine. Theirs,” came the other woman, dulcet and dry, “I would have killed them.”

Lena’s eyebrows shot up. The fog clouding her thoughts cleared instantly.

She burst out laughing, throwing her head back. Lena wasn’t sure if it was the deadpan statement or if something inside her had finally snapped, but all she knew was that she couldn’t stop. As her buzz faded in and out, making her forget why she was laughing, it only served to make her laugh more.

After continuing the scene for entirely too long, she finally met the woman’s gaze—two composed, golden orbs, upturned in amusement—as Lena tried to regain control and wiped away a tear, “Brilliant.”

A smirk crawled up the other woman’s face she brushed the icy cold glass against Lena’s arm, changing the subject. “I noticed you like Guinness,” she said, offering the stein to Lena, who accepted it a little too enthusiastically, taking an immediate sip.

“Yeah, I—God, sorry. I’m not usually like this,” Lena tightened her grip on the glass, puffing out her cheeks in contemplation before exhaling a long sigh, “Girlfriend dumped me. Over bloody text, no less.”

The other woman moved to rest on the barrier to stand beside Lena, admiring the orange expanse of sun meeting sea spread in front of them. “Seems like her loss.”

Lena shrugged and stared at the foam in her mug, swirling it back and forth. She conjured a thought about how omnics might imbibe. _Honey, did someone spike the motor oil?_ she snorted at the thought.

“Did I ever get your name?”

“Danielle.”

Lena hummed. “Danielle… You look awfully familiar.”

The other woman shot Lena a knowing smile. “I’ve been told I have one of those faces.”

A muted trumpet suddenly rang out, picking up the tempo of the muzak blaring through the outdoor speakers. Danielle chuckled under her breath longingly.

“Oh, this is Marsalis,” she said after a sip from her own glass, “I haven’t danced to him since I was a girl.”

A playful grin spread across Lena’s face, “You still look like a girl to me.”

It wasn’t long before the booze was left forgotten on the railing and the girls were in each other’s arms, laughing and moving their bodies to one nameless jazz tune after another. Lena didn’t know any of the songs (and her partner only knew about half), but their inability to stay on beat only made both women laugh harder.

The sun drew behind a mountain range, and the orange sky became swallowed by violet.

By the time the set had reached one of the slower pieces, Danielle, who would have had quite enough height on Lena even without those heels, buried her nose in Lena’s hair, fingers tangled in the short locks at the nape of her neck. The women rocked back and forth, a ship bobbing against ocean breeze.

“It’s been so long,” Danielle would find herself saying in a soft sob, hoping her words got lost somewhere between being muffled against Lena or the backing saxophones.

Lena pulled the other woman in closer, wrists locked around the small of her back, lips brushing the hollow of her neck, “You don’t worry yourself now,” she said, answering in a way that could only mean she heard every word, and the heartache behind them, “I’ve got you.”

‘Danielle’ felt weightless, floating among the stars with each sway, despite her wedges creaking the floorboards underneath her, despite the earpiece against her hoop barking updates for tomorrow’s mission.

She felt free for the first time in years—away from commanders and councils, away from the wrong end of someone else’s gun, and in the arms of her beautifully naïve Lena—free, even if it was just for tonight.

A pause, as the girls met eyes and Lena brushed a stray strand of velvet behind the other woman’s ear. “Is this the part where I ask you to come back to my place?”

The other woman laughed mischievously, the melancholy leaving her eyes. “I can guarantee that you would prefer to come back to mine.”


End file.
